


new year's day

by thehours



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Co-workers, Alternate Universe - College/University, M/M, Minor Kim Dongyoung | Doyoung, Minor Liu Yangyang, but the setting is not actually a university they're just university age, is this actually nonfic cosplaying as fiction, realization of feelings!, renjun-centric, there is no plot actually, this.....meanders.....a lot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:14:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28476735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thehours/pseuds/thehours
Summary: Renjun inched closer to Jeno, close enough by just the tiniest bit that perhaps only Jeno would notice, and looked up. He didn’t know what to wish for, or if people were supposed to make wishes on fireworks at all.Or: Jeno and Renjun are co-workers at a hostel, and they have to finish excess eggnog from the New Year’s Eve party. Title from Taylor Swift song of the same name!
Relationships: Huang Ren Jun/Lee Jeno
Comments: 6
Kudos: 48





	new year's day

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jjkookachu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jjkookachu/gifts), [csreodw](https://archiveofourown.org/users/csreodw/gifts).



> The ao3 debut nobody asked for.
> 
> For Steph. This is the New Year’s Day fic to your Christmas one. 
> 
> Also J. Here’s the fic I thought I’d write for your birthday. Warning: (tasteful? gratuitous? wack?) diaspora thoughts. And also some :( interiority :( lmao ilysm.
> 
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/__thehours)

“Want some eggnog?”

“Isn’t it a bit early for alcohol?” Renjun threw a question back as his co-worker busied himself at the bar. It was just a bit after noon, the usual lull between checkouts and check-ins at the hostel. An hour or so earlier some guests had left their luggage at the counter to do some sightseeing around the area. Renjun was now going through the list of guests they were expecting for the day, and it seemed it wasn’t going to be too busy even though it was the last Thursday of the year, just a few days before New Year’s. 

“I haven’t put alcohol in this one yet. It’s kid-friendly,” Jeno said with a smile. He handed Renjun a mug of eggnog. It had a floating cloud of whipped cream and some nut sprinkles. 

“This is looking a bit fancy,” Renjun quipped, putting the mug close to his nose to smell the drink. “And why eggnog anyway?”

“Doyoung-hyung and I tried this eggnog latte drink when we met last weekend at some cafe. Thought I’d make my own version. He says hi, by the way. Anyway, go ahead, give me an honest review,” Jeno answered, looking at Renjun intently. 

The other boy had walked into the hostel a few hours earlier, grocery bags slung on both shoulders, beaming as he declared his plans for the day. “I’m gonna try out some eggnog recipes for New Year’s after morning checkouts,” Jeno had said as Renjun walked up to him to help with the bags, one of them filled entirely with cartons of eggs. He’d been too chirpy for 8:30 AM – in winter – but Renjun had oddly felt comforted rather than annoyed. 

They’d both facilitated checkouts after Jeno put his haul in the fridge by the bar. Today it was Renjun at the desk and Jeno on dirty sheets duty. Only three guests had left, the first among them a 20-something from Australia who had told Renjun she’d decided to spend the days leading up to the New Year outside Seoul. At the mention of Busan, Jeno had perked up. “Whereabouts in Busan?” he’d asked, turning to the brown-haired girl with unbelievably green eyes. Renjun had taken it as his cue to grab the linens and towels from Jeno’s hands so the other boy could give the departing guest his full attention. 

Jeno had been speaking to guests a lot more lately. He’d told Renjun it was to practice his English, and he’d notably been improving. Renjun remembered when he’d just started working at the hostel, how Jeno would look to him for reassurance whenever he spoke to foreign visitors. He was happy with Jeno’s confidence now, and his bigger vocabulary. He didn’t need Renjun to coax him from the other side of the counter anymore. 

“I’m staying close to Busan National University? I’ve got a friend doing study abroad there, so I’ll let her take the lead with the trip. We wouldn’t mind some detours though.” 

“Cool! I actually spent some years in Busan when I was a kid, so I know it well. Here,” he said, grabbing a neat map from the counter and scribbling down a short list of places on its margins. “I know it’s very cold now, but the sea is always a good idea. There will be food and tea stalls close to the harbor. There will be a pretty view of city lights too.” He’d handed her the map and waved as she'd left.

Jeno had been experimenting with recipes since the other two guests filed out after, filling the lobby with the smell of milk and thoughtful mutters of “shit” which Renjun took as a sign that things weren’t going as smoothly as expected. From time to time he’d ask Renjun to watch him crack an egg with one hand. 

He took a sip and got whipped cream on the tip of his nose. “Hmm, it needs a bit more sugar?” he offered. 

“Yeah? I suppose my taste is a bit bland. Okay, I’ll work on it. Anything else?” 

“Not really. It’s already pretty good. Just get back to me with your next batch. Love the sprinkles, by the way, but some guests might be allergic?” he replied. 

“Right. We’ll make those optional then,” Jeno said. “Thanks for the foresight, Jun. I can always count on you.” They smiled at each other, eyes lingering longer than they would’ve yesterday, or so Renjun thought to himself. He broke away the moment the doorbell rang. The first set of tourists were ready to check into their rooms. 

“Hey, Renjun, before you let them in, you’ve got some cream on your nose,” Jeno half-whispered, touching his own nose to show Renjun where the gunk was. Then he stuck out his tongue, as if to lick where he’d just pointed, and returned to his eggnog experiments. 

“Thanks, Jeno,” he said, wiping the cream off. “I can always count on you.”

\--

Renjun hadn’t always known Jeno, because Renjun hadn’t always lived in Korea. 

He was from Jilin, China, though even that was debatable. He was from Jilin, if only because he’d lived there the longest. For eight years. Then his father had taken a job overseas, at the foreign service, and the Huangs had been unmoored since. They’d moved to Singapore a month after he’d turned eight. It seemed his family had a knack for leaving not long after his birthday. After he’d turned ten, they’d left for Peru. Twelve, for Hamburg, in Germany. They would always leave in April. Seventeen, the Czech Republic. 

His family was still there, living at the edge of Prague, in the same neighborhood as many other diplomat families. His parents had written to him recently, saying his dad had been expecting a designation to Nagoya by next year. Renjun hoped the assignment would be longer, if not permanent; his parents were not getting any younger, and maybe if they’d had more time living in one place for once, his mom could finally get the puppy she’d always wanted. It would make visiting them easier, too. He didn’t like long-haul flights at all. Last year, on the trip to visit his parents for the summer, he’d found himself dewy-eyed while eating airplane bibimbap. Despite his round-trip ticket, long-hauls always reminded him of how he wouldn’t return. 

Renjun had moved to Korea for university, and though he didn’t want to verbalize something so permanent just yet, he often thought of moving here for good. He didn't earn much yet with his part-time job, but his program, at least, promised employment. It wouldn’t be lucrative, but it would be enough for him. He could always start as a museum researcher and make his way up from there. Korea seemed like the perfect place. He wanted to be sure of it. He could speak the language, having grown up in Jilin. His mom had insisted too that they continue speaking it even after their move, so he never lost it. But Korea also seemed perfect because it didn’t feel too close. His father’s job meant their lives, his included, revolved around the affairs of China. He was a traditional man, a fine apparatchik. The importance of country had often encroached on family life. Renjun didn’t want to bear that, and he’d always felt that his mom, at least, did not want that for him either. 

So he found himself at 20 in the streets of a modest district in Seoul, walking to a cafe to meet his friend Yangyang. He’d clocked out of work before Jeno, who’d still been busy with post-eggnog clean-up when he left. It had snowed a little at dawn, so the streets were a bit damp and the air prickly cold. He rushed into the cafe the moment he saw the storefront and darted to a booth close to a radiator. He immediately draped his scarf over it, already anticipating the even colder walk home. Yangyang had earlier sent a text saying he wouldn’t come for another half hour, so Renjun took his journal from his backpack and started sketching idly. 

He and Yangyang had met when they were both 16, on a bus to the Berlin airport. They’d both joined a Korean studies exchange program in the summer and had been paired up because no one else had come from either of their schools. Coincidentally, Yangyang had grown up in Taiwan, so they had Mandarin in common. A friendship had easily formed between the two, only growing in the next three weeks. Drinking melon milk from the e-mart in their dorm building, they’d talk about college. Yangyang had wanted to pursue music production either in Taiwan or Korea. He’d let Renjun listen to some short tracks he’d made on Garageband. Renjun hadn’t revealed too much about himself in those three weeks. Nothing too personal, at least. He had let Yangyang see some of his sketches, the ones of temples and statues and gardens he’d imitated from brochures lying around their Hamburg apartment. They’d remained friends even after the program, with Renjun traveling to Berlin for Yangyang’s birthday the following year. In the end, they’d both decided to study in Seoul.

“Yo! Renjun!” 

Renjun looked up as his friend walked to the booth. “Hey, right on time.”

“Haven’t ordered? I’ll go get something for us at the counter.”

“Hmm. Can you get me an eggnog latte if they have that sort of thing? Americano if they don’t. Do you want cake?”

“Sure. Carrot?”

“Yeah.”

Yangyang came back with their orders in under five minutes. The cafe did have eggnog latte, its whipped cream towering higher than Jeno’s had. It was a lot paler, though, and its smell much more muted. No nut sprinkles either. 

“You look grossed out,” Yangyang remarked, startling Renjun a little. 

“Do I? Well. It’s just, my co-worker made some of this too this morning. He was testing out some recipes and his was definitely a lot better than whatever this is.” 

“You mean Jeno?”

“Yeah.”

“You know you can just say Jeno, right? He’s the only co-worker you talk about, Jun. And I know what he looks like,” Yangyang said, an air of knowingness to his tone. Like he wanted to say more but was waiting for the right moment so he could tell Renjun “I told you so.” He smiled with all his teeth. 

After he’d gotten the job at the hostel, nearly a month in, he’d told Yangyang he’d found his co-worker cute. He’d had crushes before, of course. Passing fancies the summer before he moved to Korea, when he’d gone backpacking. No one he’d known for more than a week. Jeno had been the first boy he’d told Yangyang about. But even then he’d barely mentioned his name. It had felt like talking about him would make it more real, and that had felt at once silly and terrifying. 

Then Yangyang had visited him once on campus and – of course! – they’d bumped into Jeno.

“Renjun!”

“Oh, hey Jeno!” he’d greeted back. “This is my friend Yangyang! He’s from Germany too. He’s here to visit.”

“Hi, I’m Yangyang. I go to SJA.”

“Oh, cool. You study music then. Look, I actually have class so I’ve got to go. Just wanted to say hi. Hope to see you around again, Yangyang.” Then he’d walked to his building. 

“What the fuck, Renjun? You didn’t say he was hot.”

“Oh my god. I’m never bringing you here again.”

He’d grown conscious about mentioning Jeno after that, even trying to sneak in something about his other colleague, Jiwoo, to prove more to himself than to Yangyang, really, that his attention to Jeno hadn’t been inordinate. She hadn’t come up as much, he realized now. He looked at his best friend sitting opposite him at the cafe and knew, playful as he was, that Yangyang wouldn’t pry. Yangyang knew his schedule, memorized his Korean address, and was his emergency contact here, yet Renjun was still afraid to let him in on something like this. It felt odd to admit to anyone, even his best friend, that Jeno could make his cheeks go warm. 

“Fine. Jeno is making eggnog for the New Year’s Eve party at the hostel. You should come. I’m thinking of doing this fortune-telling thing I learned in Warsaw a while back.”

“Dude, I’d love to, but I’m already going out the night before and I promised my family I’d have New Year’s Eve lunch with them over FaceTime on the 31st.” Yangyang’s family still lived in Berlin. They'd both decided not to travel back home this year.

“That’s okay. Let’s just go get hot pot on the 2nd then? If you’re free. Then we can go back to my place and watch _Jeopardy_.” 

“Now that I can definitely do. I was afraid you wouldn't ask.”

They spent the next hour just catching up, talking about their courses for the next term, their internship plans, filling each other in on movies and TV shows and music. Renjun wrote some titles down, for posterity. When Yangyang yawned, they decided to call it a day. 

“See you on the 2nd, Jun,” Yangyang said, fixing his scarf at the cafe door. “Tell Jeno I said hi.” He slapped Renjun’s backpack and ran to the metro station before Renjun could say a thing.

\--

On the day before the party, Renjun walked to work hugging a big stainless metal bowl. The size of it reminded him of the large antique globe his family had always lugged around with them to whichever city they'd moved. He wrapped both arms around it entirely, the cold of the metal on his exposed hands making him walk faster to the promise of indoor heating. 

He’d told Jeno the day before about the Polish fortune-telling game. “Do you have like, a really big key with a really big hole?”

Jeno had snorted. “How do you mean?”

“There’s this fortune-telling game I learned at a hostel in Poland that I think would be a good ice-breaker. What you do is you pour molten candle wax through the hole of a key, into the water. Then we all have to interpret the shape the cooled wax makes to read the fortune of whoever poured it.” 

“Wouldn’t that burn your fingers? Even big keys aren’t long enough.” 

“That’s a good point.”

“What if we used a strainer? I’m pretty sure I have an old one catching dust at home. I’ll bring it.”

“That should work, as long as the holes are big enough?” 

“I’ll see what else I can bring as backup.” 

“Okay, great!”

Jeno was already there when he got to the hostel. He sat at the counter, hunched over, reading his textbook about forests. 

“How’s it going?” Renjun asked when he approached him. He’d known that Jeno was preparing for an internship interview at the forest office. He studied forest environmental science, and his department was curiously next to Renjun’s on campus. They would spend breaks together at times, a curious pair of art history and forest science students. 

“Fine. Just a bit anxious, but I know I have enough time. Squeezing in some reading before I do nothing for the next two days.” He smiled the smile that made his eyes disappear, leaving two perfectly waned crescents and the faint dimples around them. “That’s an impressive bowl.” Jeno tapped his fingernails against the metal. 

“Thanks, it’s a mixing bowl I didn’t even know I owned. Did you bring the strainer?”

Jeno grabbed the bowl from Renjun and, tugging his co-worker’s sleeve, led him to the bar. By the sink lay a strainer with a long handle and big holes– big enough that noodles could pass through, Renjun guessed–, a mesh colander, and another strainer for deep frying. 

“That will definitely work,” Renjun said, pointing to the one used for cooking fries. “How do you have all of that?”

Jeno shrugged. “My mom’s always hoarded kitchen tools. I doubt she’s used any of these. The colander had a tag and all when I found it in our cabinet. And we don’t even have a dish deep enough for this thing,” he said, brandishing the deep fry strainer as if holding a sword. He stopped mid-swing then suddenly giggled. “Won’t a strainer look silly? Isn’t the game supposed to seem all witchy and mysterious?”

“Oh god.” Renjun covered his face with his hands, leaving a gap in between two fingers so he could look at Jeno with one eye. “Will it even be appropriate? What if it like, disrespects the culture or something? Do we have Polish guests?”

“Renjun. Relax, okay? It’s going to be fun. And hilarious. Don’t overthink it.” He poked at either corner of Renjun’s mouth and pushed his cheeks up gently, forcing his face into a smile. “There.” Renjun held his breath for a second, not entirely sure what to make of the warmth in his gut. When he breathed out, Jeno’s fingers were no longer touching his cheeks.

He couldn’t remember when they’d breached this boundary. When they’d decided _this_ was allowed. Yangyang pinched him a lot. His arms, usually. Jeno didn’t touch Jiwoo like this, did he? Or was it because Jiwoo was a girl? Or maybe he did push up her cheeks like this too, and Renjun just didn’t know. He remembered thinking Jeno had been cold when they’d first met, because he’d been intimidated by how handsome he was. Even now he’d find himself startled by how pretty he could be without trying. 

“Hey Jeno? We should take lots of photos. Mr Jeon would love that.” Mr Jeon, the owner of the hostel, rarely dropped by, but Renjun knew him to be a very kind, if eccentric, man. He interviewed full-time and part-time hires himself, even when they had a manager who could do the work for him. He would send them food every now and then, and knew everyone who worked at the hostel by their nickname. He’d always ask Renjun about Marlene Dietrich and talk about the fall of the Berlin Wall as if he and Renjun had both witnessed it.

“Of course,” Jeno said. “In the meantime, you should make flyers for your fortune-telling thing. I’ll handle the two check-ins we have today.”

“All right.” Renjun retrieved some blank paper from the desk. “I’ll go do that.”

\--

Renjun was surprised eleven guests had shown up for the fortune-telling game. On nights like this, young travelers often partied and got drunk at pubs early. Instead, they were here at 9:30 in the evening to tell each other’s fortunes. He had to admit, though, that he was proud of his flyers. In funky lettering, he’d written, “Tell your fortune! With a twist!” and a tiny “And eggnog!” as a sort of subscript. He’d drawn candles and strainers all around and added some stray question marks too. Jeno had helped him with coloring. After their shifts, they’d sat, huddled at one of the smaller tables in the hostel kitchen, working diligently with Renjun’s colored pens like well-behaved gradeschoolers. 

“We have a 12th guest,” Jeno whispered from behind him. It tickled. Renjun turned around, ready to smack his arm, when he saw Doyoung right beside him. He’d met Doyoung on Jeno’s birthday in April, at a Korean barbecue place just down the street from the hostel. “I’m really excited to introduce you to Doyoung-hyung,” Jeno had said as they walked to the restaurant. “I feel like you two would get along. I depend on him a lot, he says really wise things.” Jeno had nudged him with his elbow. “I think he’d make you feel more welcome here. He’s a really good hyung to have.” Renjun knew this now to be true. 

“Hyung, hi!”

“Hey, happy new year!” he said, squeezing Renjun’s shoulder. “I have a party to attend but this was on the way, so I’m here. And Jeno kept telling me about the strainer and I thought I had to see it for myself.” Renjun pretended to glower at Jeno, who feigned innocence by looking away and fumbling with the string of his hoodie. Renjun went for his arm and pinched it. 

“We’d better get started.” 

“Right, let me take care of the eggnog.” Jeno made for the bar. “Hyung! You’re getting the first serving!” he called out as he took mugs out of the cupboard. 

“Perfect.” 

Renjun called on the guests to huddle around the table where he’d set up the bowl. After a round of introductions, Renjun explained the mechanics. “Okay, so we’re doing a fortune-telling game originally from Poland, but with some...minor improv. For one we’re using this strainer instead of a key, because we don’t want anyone getting burned by hot candle wax. And second this was originally used to tell if virgins were gonna get married or not...so we’ll make it more generic and just make predictions for the new year.” He looked at the guests discreetly, trying to gauge something like derision from their faces, but they didn’t seem to mind. Jeno laughed quietly to himself at the bar. “We’ll take turns pouring candle wax through the strainer and everyone can help read the fortune of whoever poured it.” 

“Wait, how exactly do we interpret the shapes?” a guest asked.

“I have a list of shapes and what they signify,” Renjun explained, wagging his phone. “Just think of really basic things like, birds, mountains, flowers, that sort of thing.”

“Everyone! Before we start, come grab some eggnog here,” Jeno announced from the bar. “Put whipped cream and sprinkles as you like. And everyone’s entitled to three servings. I made a lot.” He walked up to Renjun. “You can go read my fortune first as an example,” Jeno said, poking at his rib.

After everyone got their mugs of eggnog, they gathered around Renjun again. Jeno held the strainer over the bowl and poured candle wax into it. It quickly became solid in the water, with some tiny splashes isolated around the bigger mass. Everyone looked at the shape intently.

“Uh, it looks like a fat worm,” the girl next to Renjun said. 

“Or a short snake?” someone else offered.

Renjun looked at Jeno, who regarded the blob of candle wax very seriously. He was almost pouting, his nose scrunched up a little. He looked so earnest, bare-faced like this, as though he believed this hardened gunk in Renjun’s mixing bowl could really tell the future. He wanted to pat him on the crown of his head. Maybe hold his hand. Or maybe kiss him. This thought surprised him, yet he allowed himself to think it. It didn’t seem urgent, but it felt important all the same. It didn’t need to happen immediately, but he couldn’t imagine a future in which it didn’t happen at all.

He knelt to examine the mass at eye level and noticed three peaks that looked like mountains. “Ah! I know what this is,” he declared. “If you look at it from here, it looks like a mountain rage,” he stood up again as some of the guests crouched down to inspect it themselves. “Yeah it does look like it actually,” one of them said. The whole group seemed to agree and looked to Renjun to interpret it. 

“Okay, Jeno,” he said, scanning his notes to search for what mountains meant. It simply said “struggle, success.” Lots of blanks to fill in. “Mountains normally mean you’ll meet success, but not without hard work.” That sounded stupid, he thought. “I’m sure you’re familiar with this, Jeno, since you literally climb mountains.” That made Jeno smile. “But this is a mountain range, so, hmm, it means you must have a really big goal for the year.” Jeno was looking at Renjun now, like he was ready to believe everything he said. “And you will get there, because you work hard, but there will be bumps. Maybe three of them.” Doyoung chuckled quietly beside him. “But you will get there. And then you’ll have a new goal, so we’ll have to read your fortune again.” 

It occurred to Renjun that he actually knew Jeno’s big goal. Renjun’s whole candle wax spiel wasn’t much, but he hoped it meant something. He knew Jeno had taken the job at the hostel two years ago because he’d always wanted to travel. He’d come from a perfectly middle class family, with two parents who made just enough money to send two children to university. Jeno worked to be able to spend on himself. Renjun knew his savings had let him to see Korea, at least. Jeno had told him about the many hiking trails he’d done all around– Bukhansan, Seoraksan, Jirisan, Hallasan. Renjun himself had only ever been to Bukhansan, because it was the closest one to Seoul and thus popular among foreigners. He felt guilty somehow, knowing he’d seen more of the world than Jeno had. When his family had lived in Peru, he and his mom had gone with a bunch of foreign service families to Tierra del Fuego. He’d only been 11 then, and looking back now it seemed like such a waste to him, having gone there without a mature enough capacity to appreciate his privilege. He’d seen so much and remembered so little.

“Well-said, Renjun,” Doyoung commented. “Who’s up next?”

Jeno volunteered Doyoung’s name so he could read his fortune. Doyoung ended up pouring too much candle wax, and it hardened into an almost circular blob. “Hyung, you’re going to be rich and famous,” Jeno said, with no intention of taking the game seriously. Doyoung smiled at him fondly and ruffled his hair. Renjun hung around for a few more fortunes after that. They did the game until they ran out of candle wax. By then, some guests had already broken from the group and gathered in their own smaller circles. Some had started talking a little too loud, laughing too energetically. Jeno’s eggnog had served its purpose. 

“Renjun, I’m gonna head out,” Doyoung said from behind him. 

“Oh, hyung,” he turned around and gave Doyoung a quick hug. “Thanks for coming. I’ll come up with a better ice-breaker next time,” Renjun said, almost shyly. 

“What? Are you kidding? I had fun! The game was fun, and the eggnog was good. You guys did a good job organizing this.” 

“Really? Well, if you say so. I’m glad. Have fun at your party!”

“Thanks. Frankly, I feel like I’m getting too old for these parties. Clearly my friends don’t feel the same way.” He crossed his arms. “Jeno! Text me when you get home, okay?” Jeno gave him a thumbs-up from where he sat at the counter. “You two have a good night,” Doyoung said, and made his way out. 

“See you later, hyung.”

Not long after Doyoung had left, Jiwoo arrived for her shift, which meant Jeno and Renjun were free for the night. Only half of the fortune-telling crowd remained in the lobby. Two of them sat on the corner couch making out. The others had gone out to join louder celebrations elsewhere in the city. Jeno had already started cleaning up, collecting the mugs from wherever the guests had left them and wiping the tables clean. A bit later, Renjun joined him by the sink to help him load the dishwasher. 

“Renjun, we’ve got so much eggnog left,” Jeno told him, nodding towards the bar where a whole punch bowl of eggnog still sat. Two empty punch bowls lay stacked on top of each other next to it.

“God, you made that much?”

“I think I went overboard with this one, yeah.” 

They finished loading up the dishwasher. 

“What are we going to do with the eggnog? The fridge in the kitchen is full,” Renjun said, leaning onto the counter. Jeno did the same, his pinky lightly grazing Renjun’s for a second. "I think I can bring about a quarter of it home, in my water bottle. Do you–?” 

And then there was noise outside. Horns and firecrackers and people screaming. Jiwoo stood from the front desk and made for the door. “Aren’t you guys coming? I’ve got the outside key.” Then she was gone. 

“Happy new year, Renjun.”

“Happy new year, Jeno.” They smiled at each other. Longer than they would have on a normal day, surely. But today was the New Year, and things were allowed to be saccharine. Their pinkies touched again. Then Jeno pulled Renjun by the wrist and led him out into the street.

\--

In the New Year, every corner of Seoul was alight. Jeno still held onto Renjun’s wrist as he looked up. From this part of the city, they could see two simultaneous firework shows from the neighboring districts. The couple from the couch continued to make out by a lamp post, breaking apart only to look at the lights in the sky above them. Jiwoo gave the other remaining guests party poppers, then they counted to three and the poppers burst into glitter and confetti. Renjun inched closer to Jeno, close enough by just the tiniest bit that perhaps only Jeno would notice, and looked up. He didn’t know what to wish for, or if people were supposed to make wishes on fireworks at all. It felt like a thing people would do– silently hurl their hopes at shiny things. He wondered if Jeno was wishing for anything at all. Or if he looked at the fireworks piously out of tiredness; it had been a long day for the both of them. In the end, Renjun wished he could stay much, much longer in Korea, nothing more and nothing less.

\--

“It was nice what you said earlier, Jun,” Jeno said hazily. “About the mountains.” They sat at a small table in the kitchen now, a nearly empty bowl in front of them. Ultimately, they’d decided to just finish all the leftover eggnog before heading out.

“Mmhmm.” Renjun was definitely tipsy, if not drunk; the loopy smile on his face had slowly numbed his cheeks. He propped his chin on one hand as he absentmindedly stroked the back of Jeno’s neck with the other, giggling when his fingers touched the ends of his hair because it tickled. They could end up falling asleep here, then waking up with stiff necks.

“I think I might actually save up enough this year. To go to Nepal by next summer. Have I told you about this?” 

Renjun couldn’t remember if he had, because he couldn’t remember much else right now. But he looked at Jeno steadily and listened as he spoke.

“I really want to do this trail,” he hiccupped, then inhaled deeply, before he resumed. “Not Everest, not alpining, but this week-long trail along its sister mountain. Anna–” Hiccup. “Annapurna. I really want to do it. I mean, Korea is beautiful, and I think Jeju is the prettiest place, but it’s the Himalayas, Jun. It’s gonna be so.” Hiccup. “Different.” Hiccup. Jeno stood up to get water from the tap. Renjun’s hand dropped to his lap. 

“Here, we’ve got to hydrate.” Jeno clinked his glass against Renjun’s. “Cheers.” 

The cold of the water roused Renjun a bit. After gulping the last of it down, he pinched his cheek to stay awake. “What time is it?”

“It’s almost 2:30.”

“How are you getting home?” 

“My bike.” Jeno took Renjun’s empty glass and filled it with more water. “But maybe I’ll get some sleep here. Head home when the sun is up.” 

“You are not sleeping in that cramped staff room, Jeno!” Renjun said, startling himself with how loud he had said it. He reached for the glass and drank some more. He looked at Jeno, who looked back at him with something like concern, or maybe curiosity. 

“It’s not like I haven’t done it before, Jun.”

“No,” Renjun said firmly. He thought of Jeno sleeping at the tiny desk in the staff room, waking up with a stiff neck on the first day of the year. He frowned at the image. Stupid Jeno, who biked home to Incheon from Seoul, dear Lord. Six days a week! Because it saved him cash and it was good exercise! “You’re coming home with me,” he said. “My apartment isn’t so far from here. The taxi will be cheap. I’ve got a big couch. And it’s really comfy.” 

“It’s too much trouble.”

“It is absolutely not! I’m more hit than you are right now. I’m the one more likely to make a mess between the two of us.” For a few seconds, they both said nothing. There was no sound other than the water pattering faintly on the sink. 

Then Renjun hiccuped, disturbing the silence. It made Jeno giggle. Then _he_ hiccuped too. They burst in a fit of laughter and hiccups until it hurt. “Fine, I’ll go sleep on your couch,” Jeno finally relented. “But let me buy you dinner one of these days, okay?” 

Renjun nodded.

“Let me go grab our things from the staff room.” 

Renjun booked a cab on his phone, then washed the bowl and glasses they’d used clean of eggnog. Two guests snuck in, a night of partying and a whole year behind them. One was barefoot, carrying her sneakers as she and her companion went up the stairs to their dorm room.

When the cab arrived, Renjun and Jeno both took the backseat. They latched onto each other, by their elbows, on the short ride home.

\--

“Here, you can change into these.” Renjun gave Jeno the largest shirt he owned, and a pair of his own shorts that he’d guessed would fit Jeno anyway. “There’s unused airplane toothbrush in the vanity, too. You can use it.” While Jeno changed in the bathroom, Renjun got him a clean comforter. He placed it on the couch then padded to the kitchen sink to get some water. 

His apartment was not modest; it was modern and compact in a stylish way. His parents had bought it after he’d told them about his plans of staying in Korea after university. “It would be good to have a place there, if you think you’re moving for good,” his mom had said. “And if you leave, it could be a good investment, anyway. We’ll find a way.” He hadn’t been able to refuse then, even if he wanted to. He could never afford a house in this lifetime. 

He didn’t want to depend on his parents like this. But as things stood now, he couldn’t even refuse allowance, because he still couldn’t make enough for himself. He often wished they’d held that against him. Instead they’d sent him a box of home decor when he’d moved in here a year ago. There’d been a framed photo of the three of them in it, too. Now it sat on a shelf in the living room, next to his wi-fi router. 

“Hey.” Jeno emerged from the bathroom. Renjun felt his cheeks warm at the sight of him wearing his shirt, and his shorts mostly hidden underneath. “Thanks so much again. I’ll really make it up to you. Where should I put the towel?”

“Just drape it over the back of that chair,” he said, pointing at it. “You know you don’t have to thank me so much right? This is what a good friend would do. I bet you’d do it for me too, if you didn’t live outside of the city.” He felt weird measuring himself against this metric– goodness, that was. He had no reason not to be good when he had everything he needed. 

“Of course I would.” For a moment, they stood without saying anything to each other. Jeno walked to where Renjun was near the sink and leaned against it. This time, he let their fingers touch, shyness replaced by intention. They stayed like this until Renjun felt as though the silence had become physical, pressing down on his belly, lifting the hairs on his skin. 

“Jeno,” Renjun whispered, turning to the boy beside him now. “Look at me.” He looked at Jeno directly, taut with attention, as he lifted his hands to Jeno’s face. Then Renjun kissed the side of his mouth and heard fireworks. 

When he drew away, he brushed his thumb lightly over where he’d kissed Jeno. 

“I was hoping you would do that,” Jeno whispered. 

“What? Kiss you on the side of your mouth?” He was relieved; the tension had gone. 

“It’ll do for now. Come on,” Jeno said, touching their foreheads. Then he grabbed Renjun by the wrist and led him to the couch. They plopped down at either end of it, sharing the comforter. “You were right. This is comfy.”

“See, better than the staff room,” Renjun said. “I’ll move to my bed soon.” 

“You don’t have to.” 

And they fell asleep this way, legs tangled, the new year ahead of them.

**Author's Note:**

> Here it is! My first fic! I’ve never been to Seoul so this is based completely on research (and delusion more significantly)!! I did however actually meet a diplomat’s child once, and the places where Renjun lived in this fic were the places where he’d lived too.
> 
> Thanks for reading!! Comments very much appreciated because I wanna keep writing <3 
> 
> More for my friend J pls look way:
> 
>  **Eggnog**  
>  After Miriam Wei Wei Lo (ft Ilya Kaminski)
> 
> The certainty of eggnog  
> is that it slips through the fingers
> 
> so
> 
> let us hold each other loosely  
> as we drink. 
> 
> You can fuck  
> anyone
> 
> but
> 
> with whom can you sit  
> in eggnog.


End file.
